We had our first snow storm of the winter here this week. It tracked mostly south so it wasn't awful up here but it did necessitate some school closings and a rash of accidents as people of MN slowly remembered that they do indeed know how to drive in snow.
I found myself staring out the windows at the snow with a strange nostalgia. Certainly it is not the snow itself. I tolerate snow and cold because extreme heat is worse so it wasn't that. It took Mr. Goat to center the emotion for me. The last snow storm I experienced was the day baby goat was born. All my numbers were headed in the wrong direction and the Dr. decided that it was time. A storm was on the way but luckily the family was able to get into town just ahead of the storm.
I don't really remember much about the storm, just watching it swirl around as they prepared me for my c-section and afterwards as I suffered through the necessary mag sulfate hot flash. I remember thinking that it shouldn't be snowing since baby goat was due after Easter. It wasn't time. Except it was time.
It is strange to be back at winter again. Baby goat's first birthday is less that 3 months away. He's not confined to an isolette to maintain his temperature, but will yank off any attempts at a hat or mittens before you even make it outside.
Sometimes I think I must sound like a broken record thinking back to his birth and how he is now, but I guess I can't help it. Little things daily remind me of that time: bedrest, c-section, NICU. It swims up in me unawares, this strange nostalgia. I have no desire to repeat the whole situation but there are times I linger there emotionally. It is a strange emotion too - a kind of painful joy - much like the pain of breathing in winter's frigid air. It hurts but it lets you know that you are powerfully alive.
I've been looking at pictures of baby goat lately and noticing just how much he's changed in these 9.5 months. He's such a little boy now - with little teeth nibs sticking out making him look like a strange smiling beaver boy.
And so I stand by the window, watching the blowing snow, and remember then and now and the blessings we've been given.